


First Impressions

by forsimplicityssake



Series: Modern Medical Mayhem [1]
Category: Mercy Street (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Flirting, F/M, I mean mostly Jed awkwardly being chivalrous in a way and Mary watching him be awkward, I'm just coping with no s3 ok, Mary doesn't need a white knight but Jed is just trying in the only way he knows how, Medical Professionals, it's cute though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 21:26:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10953045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forsimplicityssake/pseuds/forsimplicityssake
Summary: Anyone who has worked in an ER/Trauma setting knows that you get quite a variety of people. Most of the time they're harmless, and in this case, Mary would probably put her patient in that same category. However, when he takes a step too far, she finds support in the most unexpected of places.Or, that one time Jed steps outside his own comfort zone to aide a woman he really doesn't even know and Mary handles herself beautifully but takes an assist for the point.





	First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Well hello! It's been a super long time but now that Mercy Street and PBS in general have just killed me, I find myself writing to cope with the pain. I've been working my town's hospital and ER for about seven months and it seems that all I want to think about is what these two geese (and the rest of their ragtag gang) would get up to if they had been working many decades later than the series based them.
> 
> This prompt is loosely based on a real-life situation that happened to me a few weeks ago. Oh ER, when will you ever disappoint me?

Mary Phinney had seen quite a few things in her years as a registered emergency room nurse. From motor vehicle accidents to gunshot wounds, even the (not so) occasional cough and back pain, the days and nights at the ER and trauma center always proved to be eventful in some way or another.

Today’s lineup was an endless queue of worried parents who had been told there was a bad case of the flu traipsing around the school. Most kids weren’t showing signs of the oh so bad influenza a, but it didn’t stop them from coming in. While Mary was sometimes frustrated with the amount of people that used emergency services for minor symptoms, she was still glad to see that medical services were being used. She always figured it was better to see someone who had a headache—which might turn out to be a side effect of their diabetes—than for them to feel shamed into not coming at all.

After triaging a young girl, seven and with a pretty severe cough, she showed them back to a room. As she walked by the nurses’ station she gave a small and sympathetic smile to their newest addition, a quiet man with perpetually dark and tired eyes, Doctor Jedediah Foster.

He had arrived three weeks ago, hopeful to bring new sciences and practical medical practices to the emergency room, but found himself soon bogged down in the redundancy of daily charting and meet-and-greets. Unlike Mary, who found slim shards of joy in meeting new patients and keeping a rapport with her ‘frequent flyers,’ Doctor Foster wanted the thrill of true emergencies and didn’t find himself drawn as closely to the more clinical side of work.

This morning was such a day as those he dreaded but Mary hopped that extending a bit of kindness towards him might lighten his mood. It did little, but the small crinkle at the corner of his eye when he returned her smile with a grimace of his own, was enough to brighten her countenance just a bit.

She continued on her rounds, checking in with the charge nurse, Matron Brannan, as she was warmly called by the other nurses, and took fifteen seconds to listen to Matron’s smooth and singing Irish accent, a rarity in the states.

After a quick round of pleasantries she was off to her next patient.

Mary headed down to the last room on the left where a rather rowdy man had been complaining of a rash on his arm. It wasn't severe, something that could probably be cleared up with a bit of cortisone cream, but he was also here for a medication refill which required him to be re-seen by a doctor. His delay in getting back to a room had caused a bit of raucous but the registration staff had been kind and accommodating to him, keeping him as calm and good humored as they could until a room opened up. Now he sat in his room, not unkind, but anxious to go home. Mary had seen and known his type: usually men, but someone on their non-urgent list who didn't enjoy hospitals but needed to get things done.

She knocked gently on the glass door before sliding it open, a smile ready on her face.

"Hello Gary, I'm Mary and I'll be your nurse today."

Gary was a smallish man in his late forties, full of smiles. However, Mary could tell that a short fuse was probably under that grin. She had met a few men who were full kind compliments and patience while things went their way, but beyond that a temper fueled a potential for a fight. He reminded her of a few different men who would usually find themselves in the emergency room around two in the morning.

With a quick pump of hand sanitizer (wash in, wash out! was the motto of all nursing staff) Mary entered the room and logged into the computer at the far side. Quickly scanning over his noted vitals from triage, Mary then cross the room and slipped on a pair of gloves.

"So, it says here you've got ringworm?" She knew it wasn't but contradicting him so early had the possibility to start up a row again.

"Yep. But I bet a sweet woman like you could cure me," was his lewd response.

Oh goody, one of those kinds.

"Well you know," she pushed on, "what would work even better is if I can take a look and see if we can prescribe you something."

Gary leered towards her but didn't make a move to touch, which Mary was extremely grateful for. After examining the rash, she diagnosed it was not ringworm, an obvious diagnosis but a comment she didn't want to say aloud. It was in fact, atopic dermatitis, commonly known as eczema. While most patients waited to hear a medical answer, many—and more every day—were starting to rely on the internet to give them what they wanted. Mary felt little sympathy for them.

"It looks like eczema," she commented finally. "It's something we can very easily take care of; nothing to cause alarm."

Her patient nodded before replying, "Not like the alarms you’re setting off for me."

Mary sighed. She knew she was a relatively attractive woman as she had received many compliments and date offers while in nursing school. Always studious—but never above a bit of good-humored fun—Mary usually declined their offers. She'd had a steady boyfriend, almost fiancé, a man of slight royal lines to be precise, while in her undergraduate program, but the separation that came with secondary education left them on either sides of the continent. Since then, no one had really attracted her.

“You’re very kind,” Mary smiled.

Out of nowhere, Gary stood and put his hand on her arm, his mouth close to her face as he propositioned, “Maybe I could get your number.”

Well, this was always fun. Slowly pulling away at first, Mary offered her patient a kind face, feigning embarrassment. “I’m flattered Gary, but I don’t think it would be ok. I’m your nurse.” Stepping back and inch or so more, she removed her arm entirely from his grasp.

Not taking no for an answer, Gary stepped closer but kept his hands to himself. “I really think it would help me heal.”

Mary had to physically hold her tongue and keep her eyes from rolling. She absolutely hated to say it, but it was the only kind, gentle way to respond that she could think of, as stereotypically and horrible as it sounded coming from her mouth. “I don’t think my husband would like that.”

Immediately Gary deflated. “Oh, you’re married. Well then.”

Seeing the reaction she hoped for, Mary quickly finished up her orders and told Gary she would be back in a few minutes. After pulling the curtain and sliding the door closed, Mary turned around only to see Doctor Foster watching her closely.

The way his eyes took in her features, ever meticulous and calculating, caused the hairs on her neck to stand up and a warmth to blossom across her face. His countenance gave little away and she wasn’t sure if he’d heard her brief crossfire with the patient, but as he brushed past her it was difficult to tell. She was hoping he hadn’t.

Minutes passed on and Mary continued to check in on her three rooms. As she came back to Gary’s she steeled herself, trying her best to keep what her mother called her “serrated tongue” under control.

The door was partially open and as Mary passed by briefly to grab a fresh set of gloves, she heard Gary call out, “How about that number?”

Almost chuckling in a dry and tired sense, Mary replied, “Still married, Gary.”

Though she didn’t see it, Doctor Foster glanced up briefly to assess what was happening before returning to his notes.

One last set of vitals were taken and Mary had to do her darnedest to keep from pulling away every time Gary attempted to touch her. Gentle reminders of, “easy Gary,” or “hey now,” were the best she could do to keep from creating something she didn’t want to deal with. If she had been working third, or even second shift, she probably could’ve gotten away with more coarse words, but on first, when the head of nursing was possibly twenty feet away, she had to be careful. Nurses had every right to be firm with their patients; their safety was the number one priority, but Mary knew you had to pick your battles.

As Gary pushed her boundaries again, Mary was seconds away from throwing caution out the second story window. Lips centimeters apart and a wittily sharp comment on the verge of bursting forth, a knock, brief and with certainty, broke the silence. Mary looked up, usually undisturbed in her work, to find Doctor Foster in the space between the glass doors.

“Mary,” he called, gentle but with intention. If she wasn’t mistaken, there was a turn to his lips as if he was smiling intimately at her. She was incredibly confused.

“Doctor Fo—"

“ _Jed_ ,” he broke in, again with gentleness, which struck Mary as a bit odd. “How many times have I told you that it’s ok to call me that here?”

She was about to protest but upon sensing Gary tense up and withdraw his hand, Mary only responded dumbly by opening her mouth and closing it again. No sound emerged.

Turning his attention to the patient, Doctor Foster offered not an ounce of the kindness before, but a forced congenial tone. “You’ll have to forgive my wife. She likes to play tough but really, she’s as gentle as a lamb. She does enjoy a solid set of rules though.”

He then produced a small stack of papers, discharge paperwork, with instructions to see the pharmacist for the prescribed cream, keep the area clean and dry, to check back with his primary physician—here he made a large point—and to have a good day.

Gary, bewildered by what happened, took the papers and mutely left, his eyes searching Mary for a brief moment, flitting to her left hand, to the doctor’s, and then back. The tall man, eyes fearsome, stood very close to the nurse and sensing it was best to just leave, his luck run out, Gary did just that.

Patient gone, Mary wasn’t sure about what entirely to do next. The room was quiet save for the soft beeping from the trauma bay down the row. She could feel the slight difference in body heat as Doctor Foster stood perilously close to her, his words still bouncing around. Wife? _Married?_

“Doctor Foster I—"

“Nurse Phinney, you’ll have to excuse me.”

Mary watched him turn to leave and if she wasn’t mistaken, there was a patch of light pink dusting over his high cheekbones. With a hand perched on the glass door, Mary was sure this conversation was over. However, just before leaving, Doctor Foster turned his head slightly, keeping his eyes adverted as he replied, “Forgive me, that was out of bounds. It just seemed like you weren’t enjoying his attentions and there’s nothing I hate more than a man who doesn’t know when to quit. We're trying to do our service.”

Still dumbfounded, Mary found the only words she could: “Thank you.”

The doctor turned fuller now, his eyes still dark and difficult to read, the blush still present. He swallowed, the sound loud in his ears but imperceptible to Mary’s.

He looked lost, as if human interaction wasn’t his strong suit. How odd, Mary thought, though it wasn’t uncommon for highly intelligent doctors to be lacking in social skills. Instead of letting him flounder, Mary took off her gloves gently and tossed them in the bin before approaching him.

“It was very kind of you.”

Doctor Foster regarded her quietly for a beat as a genuine, closed smile bloomed across his face. Eyes crinkling ever so at the corners and shoulders becoming more relaxed, he nodded minutely and pushed the door open, heading back to his desk.

Mary watched him go and for the first time in a long time, she felt a strange urge to want to know more about a man. She was curious to peer inside his head; to see what he enjoyed and what he disliked and what made him curious and excited. He was a mystery to most of the nursing staff but Mary felt a soft heat in her chest, a small drive and a challenge: she wanted to be the first to uncover him, to know him, to understand him, if only on a perfectly professional basis. The rest would come in time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading loves! I expect this to turn into a random series of different shenanigans. I'll honestly probably pop in and out over the weeks when irl things inspire me. I hope you've enjoyed! Also, shout out to the awesome triage nurse who pretended to be my spouse. (Side bar: I will one day finish the series 'Observations' that I started a year ago. One daaaaaayyyy.)


End file.
